Ruin Me: Falling for My Best Friend’s Fiancée のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

Killian’s POVI didn’t even remember ending the call with Damon. My thumb hovered over the phone screen, but my head was already spiraling down a tunnel I couldn’t claw my way out of. The night felt like it was closing in on me, heavy and suffocating.Alessandra was gone.No, not gone—taken. That was the only explanation that made sense. But the good thing was I could get her back. And I wouldn’t fucking stop until I did. “She was okay in the morning Killian, let’s not jump into conclusions,” Lia said softly, like her voice wouldn’t set me off. “I thought she was just… clearing her head. You can’t expect her to just sit at home after seeing her sister like that—”“She wouldn’t stay out this long!” I snapped, my voice shaking. “She knows better than to disappear without a word. She knows I—” My throat locked up before I could finish.She knows I’d burn the world down for her.Ronan stepped closer, his voice calm but edged with iron. “Getting worked up won’t bring her back. Think. When

Killian’s POVSilence bled into the air after Damon hung up. Lia shifted nervously by Ronan, her nails digging into her arms. The yard felt smaller, tighter, like the walls were closing in though we were standing under the open sky.Damon finally exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair. “You just made it worse. Stella’s probably already dialing every contact she has, screaming Alessandra’s been murdered.”“Good,” I bit out. “Let her panic. Maybe she’ll stir up noise loud enough to shake whoever took Ale out of their hole.”“That’s not how this works, Killian,” Damon said flatly. “Noise makes people run deeper. If she’s in their hands, we need them to think they still have the upper ground. Not that we’re breathing down their necks.”Ronan’s gaze stayed on me, sharp and unyielding. “Damon’s right. Keep your head straight. Your temper isn’t helping her right now.”I wanted to shove him away. I wanted to tear something apart until my hands bled. But he was right and my anger wasn’t

Killian’s POV “Killian!”Her scream tore through the silence like glass shattering.My blood went cold.Alessandra.It came from below, from somewhere deep beneath this rotting place.I was already moving before my mind caught up, my body sprinting down the hallway, toward the stairs that led to the basement.I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. I tore down the stairwell, boots hammering against the metal steps, every clang a warning to the bastards below.Two men rushed up to meet me. They must have thought the high ground meant something. It didn’t. I slammed into the first, shoulder to his gut, sending him flying backward down three steps. His skull cracked against the edge, blood spraying across the railing. The second swung a pipe—too slow. I ducked, drove my knife through his calf, and ripped upward. His howl filled the stairwell, but I silenced it with a shot to the chest.I didn’t stop moving.Her scream echoed again, faint but frantic, and my vision blurred with rage.The ba

Alessandra’s POVMy legs were shaking.I felt like a sore wound waiting to burst open. My muscles ached, my bones felt hollow, and my head was constantly drumming in my ear.But somehow, I was still worried about Killian.“How many people did he kill?” I asked Damon as we walked through the unknown building where I’d been held hostage. I could see bodies on the floor in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t want to think about them.“Well, almost all of them. Ronan and I took care of the rest.”I swallowed, but my throat was dry, and nodded. I tried to look at Damon, but his expression was locked, his emotions sealed away behind that mask I usually saw on Killian.Except this one was a lot less lethal looking, and he seemed mentally drained too. I met Ronan outside a few seconds later, and the cold night wind instantly made my teeth chatter.“Ale,” he called out as he saw me.I managed a weak smile at him and winced when the cut on my lips stung.“We need to get you to a hospital,” Damon

Killian’s POV I didn’t know whether to buckle under the weight of emotion, or call his bluff. But his eyes were too firm and sure for someone who would have been lying. So I shifted my weight, cocked the gun again, and told him to go on. “Let’s look at it this way. You had enemies, still have, but as the Godfather’s first son, still a lot more than a normal mafioso would have.” I shrugged. “So you needed to leave the picture before you were bred. You seemed deadly even as a child,” he kept on, shaking his head and smiling with some strange wisdom I didn’t understand. But for some reason, I wanted to keep listening. Maybe it was the scar that ran across his chest. Or the visible scars that started from the side of his jaw and ran down all the way into his torso. Something about him screamed familiarity in ways I couldn’t describe. “So yes, the kidnapping was planned. But it wasn’t from the people your father was at war with.” “What?” I spat. “They didn’t take your sist